


Dinner and a Movie

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Dinner and... [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Depression-era Movies, F/M, Lots of Cooking for Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Reader is in Romania on a quest to find her long-lost brother. She gets in trouble and gets rescued by a beautiful blue-eyed man. She shows her appreciation with a home-cooked meal and proceeds to show up as often as she can.Set post-CA:TWS and pre-A:AoU.





	1. Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I just couldn't stop. Sexy times will be had in chapter 2.

Spending a month in Romania was not your ideal use of vacation time. You were alone, didn't speak the language and had never traveled, apart from a Spring Break road trip Sophomore year of college. Unfortunately, you had a mission. Your father, on his deathbed, had confessed to an affair he had when he was working in Germany 8 years before you were born, one which resulted in a pregnancy. He'd broken all ties with the woman and told her to deal with the baby however she felt necessary, but he was sure you had a half-brother in Europe. He begged you to find his first born child and establish a relationship with him. It was the last request of a dying man, who'd given you so much in your life. You'd agreed, of course, even as you felt completely overwhelmed by the task. You started searching online, but had very little information on the woman. She'd been a gypsy and moved around a lot. You put your DNA in at AncestryDNA, but you didn't actually expect anything to come up. What came up was a half-brother match in Romania. When he put in the sample, he was living in Bucharest, but all attempt to make contact with him had failed, so you'd put in all of your vacation and bought a plane ticket. You'd spend your money and spend your time looking for the man you'd matched with, Milo Kalderash, and if you couldn't find him before your return ticket home, then it wasn't meant to be and that's not your fault.

Of course, you were only in Bucharest for 3 days before you began regretting the overflowing hostel you were staying in, and the money you'd spent to get there. There was no sign of Milo at his listed address. At least, you didn't think there was. The property manager didn't speak English, so it was pulling teeth to get your point across. Your fourth night in Bucharest had you lost in a downtown area. You entered a corner store and looked at the counter. The woman behind the register was busy with a line five people deep so you looked around the store. In the corner, looking at a wall of canned goods, was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing several jackets and gloves. You approached him, slowly, trying to get a good look at his face before stumbling into your half-English, half-mangled Romanian request for assistance. You were taken a bit by how gorgeous he was, even though he was obviously not trying to be. In fact, with the hair in his face, the stubble and the baseball hat, you were sure he was trying to avoid people looking at him... but the bright blue of his eyes that you could barely see and the way he was biting his lip as he looked at the food, it was sexy.

"Sc-scusaţi–mă..." You said, swallowing as he turned to you.  "Vorbesti engleză?" He stared at you, his face blank, but his eyes swirled with emotions you couldn't pinpoint. "I'm lost and of course you don't speak English. Well, at least I got to see those gorgeous eyes. Mersi, anyway." You smiled, tightly, at him before heading toward the front of the store again. The clerk still had a line, so you walked out, deciding to find another shop to ask for help. 

You didn't get the chance. You were pulled into an alley and pushed against the brick wall. Three men began to growl at you in Romanian. Too fast for you to even begin to understand. You weren't catching a single word. "Poţi să vorbesţi mai rar? N-nu înţeleg." They pressed you into the wall harder and pulled your purse out of your hand. "No! My passport's in there. I need-!" A fist collided with your jaw as you protested. You looked down, but the fist landed in your abs, next and you couldn't breathe. They started spitting at you in Romanian again and you began to fight back. You couldn't do much against three men, all much bigger than you, but you couldn't do nothing. You kicked, you scratched, you began to shout. They simply grabbed your head and bashed it into the brick behind you. 

A deep voice at the end of the alley grabbed your assailants' attention. They turned their heads, spitting Romanian words at the newcomer, who said one simple sentence. "Du-te de aici. Las-o în pace." He sounded almost bored. Your vision was blurry as you looked toward the end of the alley, following the movement of two of the men who'd grabbed you. You couldn't see the man who you were hoping was your rescuer, the darkness and your head wound working to mask him. They had barely reached the man when they hit the ground. There was almost no movement from the blurry dark figure, but the two men dropped anyway. "Pleacă, acum." The voice said. 

The man holding your body against the wall looked away toward the mystery man and gripped your shoulders, twirling you around and pushing you toward the other end of the alley. You fell to the ground, tripping over the unconscious men, your head bouncing and pain shooting through your head and shoulders. Strong hands wrapped around your biceps and pulled you to your feet. You were able to catch a sight of two striking blue eyes before your head fell victim to a wave of pressure and you lost touch with reality. 

When you came to you were lying on your right side on a mattress on the floor of an efficiency apartment. Your eyes felt heavy, your head was pounding and you could swear you felt something cold draped over the back of your head but when you went to raise your hand to check, a bottle of water was pushed into your palm, instead. "Drink." The voice from the alley commanded. 

You moved your gaze from the gloved hand up the arm to the face of the blue-eyed man from the grocery. "You." You breathed out, barely audible.

"What's the date?" He asked, looking down at you.

"April 10, 2015." You answered in a whisper, trying to drink the water while laying down without drenching yourself and the mattress.

"Who's the US president?"

"Barack Obama. You speak English?"

"Your name?" He ignored the question as he picked up a familiar passport and opened it. Yours had a turned down corner from getting caught in your purse wrong.

"Y/N."

"Full name." He urged. 

It amazed you for a moment that he could be so quiet and yet so intimidating at the same time. "Uh, (y/f/n) (y/l/n)." He gave a very slight nod and tossed your passport behind him. It landed on a small brown sofa with too many pillows. He leaned over you, picking up something from behind your head. As he stood, you could see it was a pack of frozen peas: an impromptu ice pack. "What's your name?" You asked as he walked over to the freezer and put the peas away. He didn't answer, grabbing a bottle of pills and tossing them at you. A big bottle of acetaminophen. 

You sat up, putting the water bottle on the floor next to the mattress and picking up the bottle. He was beside you almost instantly, pushing your shoulder with two fingers until your back hit the mattress again. "I can't take the Tylenol while lying down. The pills will get stuck in my throat." You complained. He sighed and removed his hand, moving back and staring down at you as you twisted the pill bottle open. You stared down at the bottle for a minute after taking the pills, trying to determine why it looked wrong to you, then you looked up at him. He immediately tensed, like your gaze made him uncomfortable. He turned, his hair swinging to cover his face. "Thank you... for saving me."

He breathed out, sharply, but didn't respond, so you took a drink of water and sighed, deeply. You were tired, but you didn't want to lie down again. He must have noticed your exhaustion, because he took a breath. "Sleep." He commanded, turning back to the kitchen.

"I thought you weren't supposed to sleep with a concussion."

"You ever _had_ one?" He asked, his voice impatient. You shook your head. "It's a myth. Sleep."

You swallowed, twisted the top back onto the bottle of water and leaned back, careful of your head. You woke again exactly the same way. Cold head, tall stranger standing over you, bottle of water in his hand. "What's the date?" He asked, handing the water to you and pulling a bag of stew veggies off of your head.

"10th of April, 2015." You answered, sitting up to drink the water.

"And the US president?"

"Barack Hussein Obama."

"Your name?" 

"Not 'til you tell me yours." You said, stubbornly. He glared down at you, but you just took a drink of water and looked around.

"You're alert enough." He mumbled as he walked into the kitchen again. He grabbed a loaf of bread and it was only a few minutes before he was placing a sandwich on your lap. "Eat." 

You picked up the sandwich and examined it. Regular old peanut butter and jelly. "I want you to know, I'm only putting up with the monosyllabic orders because you saved my life. Anybody else and I wouldn't tolerate that." You said, before taking a bite. He gave a snorting noise and took a bite of his own. A small upturn at the side of his mouth made you smile. 

Several more hours of sleep and water and questions (which you started answering in increasingly facetious ways) and your head was getting clearer and clearer. He seemed to get more comfortable with your presence as the hours went by and he pulled out a journal and started to write in it. You picked up the bottle of Tylenol and looked at it. It finally dawned on you what looked wrong with it. It looked _right_. "You're American." You blurted. 

He looked up from his journal and spoke in what sounded like Russian. "Vy uvereny v etom?" His eyebrow popped up and there was danger in his expression.

You took a guess on what he'd said. "Yes, I am sure. This is an American bottle of Tylenol. It says 'Acetaminophen', not 'Paracetamol'. I think I've got this exact same bottle of pills in my cabinet at home."

"So, I have an American bottle of pills. That makes me American?"

"That, and your accent. So, I know a thing about you... a single thing. Still don't know your name." 

He put the book down and stared at you for an uncomfortable several moments. "James." 

You smiled. "Thank you, James." 

An hour later, he looked across the apartment at you. "So, why are you in Romania? You don't speak the language, obviously don't know your way around the capitol." 

You looked up from your phone, where you'd been playing Solitaire. "Oh, uh, I'm looking for my half-brother, Milo. He was living in Bucharest when he put his DNA in at the service, but... can't find him. Yet."

"You have a half-brother in Romania, but you're American?"

"Daddy was a less-than-faithful accountant with a firm that sent him to Germany. He met an apparently-irresistible gypsy woman and she... got pregnant, as happens, you know? Anyway, guess my half-brother ended up in Bucharest, but gypsies move around a lot, I guess." 

"And you came alone?" 

"Well, the travel site said that violent crime was really low in Bucharest. I figured I could handle myself."

He nodded and went back to his journal. "Violent crime is always high for pretty young American women." He muttered, barely audible. You chewed on your bottom lip as the implication hit you that James thought you were pretty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James helped you out of his apartment building and walked with you across town to your hostel. When you woke up the next morning, you started on your journey to find Milo, but you couldn't stop thinking about James. So, you went through the local market and then you trekked slowly up the nine sets of stairs to James' apartment. When he opened the door to see you standing there with several plastic bags full of groceries, confusion flooded his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to thank you. Saved my life, made sure I didn't go brain dead from a concussion. Thought I'd cook dinner for you."

"Aren't you supposed to be looking for your brother?" He asked.

"I can't find him. He's a gypsy, probably not even in the country anymore. But you are. Please, don't say 'no'." You whispered.

He looked at you for a moment before opening the door wider and letting you into the apartment. You smiled and rushed for the kitchen. "What would you like? I got a bunch of stuff and I can cook a lot of stuff, look up recipes for things I don't know."

He watched you as you pulled item after item out of your bags, before putting the empty plastic bags in a single bag and setting them aside. You'd use them as trash bags to clean up after dinner. He looked at a slab of beef you'd loved because of its marbling. "How's your beef stew?"

You smiled, brightly. "Not as good as my mom's, but I can cook it with my eyes closed." You looked around. This was definitely a bachelor's kitchen. "I will need a pot, a knife and a spoon." 

He brushed past you in the tiny kitchen, putting a hand on your hip to push you out of the way as he bent down and opened a low cabinet. He emerged with a large cast iron Dutch oven and placed it on the stove top, then grabbed a large spoon from the top of the fridge and handed it to you. The knife, he pulled from his pocket. It was big, sharp as hell, with a serrated edge near the handle. You gave him a pointed look as he handed it over. "It's _that_ or a butter knife." He said, with a shrug.

You chuckled and took it to the sink to clean it. "So, where are you from, James?"

He was quiet, leaning against the fridge, and when you turned to him he was examining you like he was trying to determine your trustworthiness. "Born in Indiana, but my folks moved us to Brooklyn when I was real little." 

"Ah, New York. I've never been. Always wanted to, though." You brought the knife over and started to cut the beef into pieces. "I wanted to volunteer with the relief effort after the Battle of New York, but my manager wouldn't approve the time off."

"What would you have been able to do to help?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It brought unintentional attention to the muscles that were hiding under his brown hoodie and you wondered, momentarily, whether he ever took off those gloves.

"I don't know. They always need people who can take directions, right? Might not be a hero, but I could've kept the police and firefighters hydrated and fed." You shrugged. "Just wanted to help."

"You take directions? Weren't you telling me that you were only taking direction from me because I saved your life?"

"I can take directions. I just _don't_  unless I want to." You moved around the kitchen in relative silence, James moving to write in one of his journals as you put together the stew. You let it cook down and sneaked looks across the apartment to your savior. He was gorgeous and as he looked down at his journal, he looked so vulnerable.

The two of you ate the stew and then, he walked you back to the hostel, even after you insisted he didn't need to. He was such a gentleman. The next afternoon, you were at his door again. He answered and looked confused again, standing there in that same brown hoodie, same black gloves. "I came to partake of the leftover stew."

"Really?" His voice was incredulous.

"Yeah. It's scientific fact that stew is better the second day, Brooklyn." You said, with a smile.

"That's _fact_ , huh?" He asked, raising his eyebrow at being called 'Brooklyn'.

"Yup. Next time I come, I'll bring my laptop. We can watch some episodes of Good Eats. There's one about beef stew, talks about gelatin and how the meat gets more tender overnight and over the next few days." You said, pushing through the doorway to slink past him.

He shut the door with a sigh as you pulled the plastic container out of the fridge and started to pour the contents into the Dutch oven. "'Next time'?" He asked.

"Yeah... I mean... if you wanted to see me again. I mean... I've got 3 more weeks here and I'm not gonna find Milo and honestly, it looks like you could use a friend and having someone who knows the area and speaks the language might be beneficial to me." You said, clicking the stove on.

"What makes you think I need a friend?" He asked, standing intimidatingly near the fridge.

"Well... you're obviously a bit of a loner, with the tiny apartment and the lack of any sort of decorations and the journaling everything... and I respect that, James, but people are made to need interaction. I mean, other than talkin' to shop clerks and growling at thugs in alleyways, how much human interaction have you had lately?"

He looked down, then rolled his eyes. "Maybe I don't _want_ human interaction."

"Well, this human wants to interact with you. If you don't mind, I mean." You said, turning to the sink and beginning to clean the dishes.

"If you wanna do my dishes, Doll, I don't mind you comin' over." He said, with a smile. Being called 'Doll' made you giddy and the smile just compounded the feeling. 

When you showed up for the third day in a row, with your laptop bag on your shoulder and a plastic bag of groceries hanging from your hand, he didn't look confused or surprised. Instead, he smirked and stepped out of the way. "I'm making spaghetti bolognese tonight. And I brought the laptop so we can watch movies... or Good Eats. Alton Brown is amazing."

"Who?" He asked, gently pulling the laptop bag from your shoulder and placing it on the counter.

"Alton Brown. He was the host of Good Eats, now he's got a show called Cutthroat Kitchen. He's nerdy and awesome and full of information... like why stew's better the second day." You said, pulling the groceries from the bag and setting them on the counter as he unzipped the bag and pulled your laptop out. He opened the computer and hit the power button. "Oh, it's got a password." You shifted to the end of the counter as the speakers chimed to say your computer had logged in. "How'd you-"

He just shrugged, ignoring the question as he clicked on your video file and went through your movies and TV show episodes. His eyebrows tucked together as he scrolled through. "Anything in particular you wanna see?" You asked.

He shrugged again. "I'm kinda... I like classic movies. You got anything Depression-era?" He seemed to be struggling with those words.

You smiled at him and nodded. "Those will be in a folder at the bottom titled 'Grandpa Classics'."

"'Grandpa Classics'?" He sounded almost offended.

"Yeah. Movies I used to watch with my Grandpa. They're good movies, but they're movies from when our grandparents were young. I've got, uh, the Wizard of Oz, Gone with the Wind, The Most Dangerous Game, um..." You wracked your brain for more titles as James pulled up the folder.

"Oh, man, I haven't seen this in forever. You mind?" He asked, highlighting Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. 

You smiled and giggled a little. This huge, handsome, dangerous man wanted to watch a Disney movie with you? "I don't mind, Brooklyn. As long as you don't mind me singing along. My 'Heigh-ho' is top notch." He smiled and double-clicked the file. 

As the two of you ate your pasta, sitting on the sofa with your plates in your laps, you watched your second movie; The Adventures of Robin Hood. "Dude. Errol Flynn is so smooth!" You squealed as you watched Robin Hood fight his way out of the castle. "Oh! We should watch Men in Tights next!"

"What?" 

You put your fork on the plate and turned to look at him. "Robin Hood: Men in Tights? It's a Mel Brooks movie? It parodies this one, and pretty much every Robin Hood movie that came before it. It's hilarious." 

"I... I guess we can watch that. Haven't seen a good comedy in a while." He said, twisting his fork in his pasta and eating a forkful.

"Haven't seen much, have you?" You muttered, picking your plate back up. He looked down at his plate, but didn't respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you ended your first week in Romania, you were once again in James' apartment, sitting on his sofa, watching Fantasia. "You know, James, I forgot how much I love Disney movies. Thank you for reigniting my love affair with the Mouse."

He smiled and took his eyes off of the laptop, turning to you and taking a deep breath. "Bucky." You shook your head in confusion, not understanding what he meant, at all. He chuckled. "My friends... when I _had_ friends, they called me 'Bucky'."

"Are you inviting me to call you 'Bucky'?" You asked.

He reached out with his left hand and squeezed your shoulder. "I'm insisting you call me 'Bucky'." He whispered.

You smiled, brightly. "Okay. What do you wanna watch next, Bucky?" You asked, trying out the name. 

"Ladies' Choice, Doll." 

You smiled, big and cheesy. You loved being called 'Doll'. "Okay." 

You fell asleep halfway through Brenden Fraser's The Mummy and when you woke up, Bucky was walking out of the bathroom. He was pulling his gloves back on. You gasped to see his left hand was shiny metal. His eyes widened when he realized you'd seen it and he rushed to pull his glove on that hand. "Is that why you're always wearing gloves?" You asked, standing up and rushing to grab the glove before he could put it on. "You've got a prosthetic hand?" You dropped the glove to the floor and grasped his left hand. "What kind of metal is this? It's cold, so low thermal conductivity... titanium alloy?" You asked.

"I don't know." He whispered, shock evident in his voice as you moved your hands up to his wrist and pushed his hoodie sleeve up to the elbow. "Never asked."

"It's your whole arm?! That's..." You looked up in his eyes, suddenly aware that you were geeking out about something he'd worked hard to hide. Something he was embarrassed about? "Uh, I mean... bionic arm is... what happened?" You asked, pulling the sleeve back down and leaning down to pick up the glove. You didn't hand it back to him, twisting the material in your hands as you awaited the answer.

He flexed his fingers and looked down at them. "I, uh, I was in an accident. There was an explosion on a train." He said, quietly.

"Wow. You're lucky to be alive, then. And this... can you feel with it, or is it just..." You reached forward and placed the glove into the metal palm.

"I can feel, but it's not the same. It's like my brain recognizes that you put that glove in my hand, tells me that I felt it, but it's like... remembering what something felt like." He said, quietly, clenching his fingers around the fabric. 

"Wow. Bucky, I'm sorry for... being insensitive. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, y/n. I know you didn't mean anything by it. It's definitely a... conversation piece." He said, putting on a smile as he pulled the glove on. It was fake and you could tell he didn't mean the smile.

"Yeah, but you're not comfortable conversing about it. I should've just-"

"Doll, it's fine. I'd rather you get excited about a thing than disgusted... or creeped out." 

You nodded and looked at your phone. It was past midnight. "I should probably get back to the hostel. Don't want them to give away my bed." 

"Let me get a drink of water, then we can head out."

"You don't have to. I know the way back by heart."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and chuckled lightly. "I'm not lettin' you walk back in the dark alone. I haven't let you walk back alone once, why would I tonight?" 

You couldn't help the blush that covered your cheeks as you breathed in the smell of metal and woodsy body wash. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't take any time with with your search for Milo the next morning, heading straight to Bucky's apartment. When he opened the door, he was smiling, his gloves were off, but he was wearing the brown hoodie. "Hey."

"You're early." He said, letting you in. 

"Um... I just really wanted to see you." You said. "And I was thinking pizza for dinner and that means letting the dough rest and setting up toppings and-"

"You might wanna rethink getting attached, here, Doll. You're leaving in less than a month."

"Oh, well. Too late for that, Brooklyn. You ain't gettin' rid of me 'til I get on that plane home." You smirked at him, before heading to the kitchen and pulling out flour, sugar, and a packet of instant yeast. After you covered the dough and left it to rest, you turned to Bucky and asked the question that had been rolling through your head all night. "What are you running from, Bucky?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, man. I may not be the brightest bulb, but I'm pretty damn observant. You're an American who speaks at least a half a dozen languages, can put down thugs with zero effort and has a freaking Terminator arm. If there's not a government agency after you somewhere, I'll eat _my_ left arm."

"You don't want to know."

"I do, or I wouldn't have asked, Brooklyn."

Bucky searched your face with his steel gaze, determining again if you were trustworthy. He sighed, pushing his hair behind his ears. "They're _all_  after me, Doll."

"What?"

"I got warrants out across the world." It sounded like something a wannabe would say to sound like a badass, but from Bucky's mouth, you believed it. He gauged your reaction from your face then, nodding, stood. "How's your World War II knowledge?"

"It's fair. I mean, I passed high school History."

"And what about Captain America? You know much about him?" He asked, retrieving one of his many journals from the bookshelf.

"Yeah. My dad was a fan. Freaked out when they pulled him out of the ice. I know more than most chicks my age."

"Howling Commandos?"

"I can name half of 'em." You said, wondering what exactly this line of questioning had to do with the original query. Bucky just looked at you pointedly, so you sighed. "Dugan, Jones, Morita and Barnes... I can never remember the Brit or the French guy."

He raised an eyebrow at 'Barnes' and you followed his thoughts down. A gasp pulled from your throat as you pieced it together. James goes by Bucky, who likes Depression-era movies and lost his arm in a... train accident. "But he died." You said, simply, staring at Bucky.

"Everybody thought Steve was dead for 70 years." 

"But you'd be almost 100."

"You don't age in cryo." He said, succinctly, as he pulled out a Captain America Museum booklet from the journal. He flipped it open to a picture of the Howling Commandos. The man in the picture was clean-shaven with short brown hair, but it was undeniably the same man in front of you.

"What happened? How'd you survive falling off a train on the side of a freakin' mountain? And why are you... why are you in trouble?" You finished in a whisper.

"You know how Steve liberated several hundred Allied Forces from a HYDRA installation, saved _me_?" You nodded. "My memory's not so good, but I'm guessing they were testing a serum like the one Erskine used on Steve. It worked well enough that the fall didn't kill me. Just got my arm ripped off. HYDRA found me, almost dead. They took me, brainwashed me." He ran his hand through his hair and pushed the booklet back into the journal. "I've killed people in almost every country in the world."

"Because HYDRA _made_ you do that. That's not your fault."

"I doubt that matters much to the families of the people I murdered for HYDRA." He looked at you, expectantly, for a few moments. "So, are you going to call Interpol on me? I'm sure there's a reward for the Winter Soldier."

You scoffed, but sobered when you realized he was serious. "Bucky." He looked away, hiding in his hair again. "James." You tried, but he refused to look at you, so you reached up and gently grasped his chin. "That's not who you are, Bucky. You aren't a HYDRA assassin, anymore. _You_  are the kind of man who saves dumb American women who get themselves in bad situations, and then you nurse them back to health and let them show up on your doorstep everyday." Bucky's eyes finally flicked to yours and you smiled. "You're the kind of man I'm lucky to have met and no amount of money would make me throw that away."

"That's weird." He whispered, bringing his metal hand up to cover the hand on his chin.

"What?"

"I just told you I've killed thousands of people and you're _still_  looking at me like that."

"Like what?" You whispered.

"Like you wanna kiss me." His voice was full of wonder, like he was witnessing the unimaginable.

You could feel your cheeks heat up as a blush spread across them. "I thought I was hiding that pretty well." You wanted to look away but his eyes wouldn't release their grip on yours.

"Not for a single moment, sweetheart."

"Well, then... can I?" A small twitch of his eyebrows made you look down, finally.

"Can you... kiss me?" He clarified, his metal fingers twitching on top of yours.

"Never mind." You muttered, pulling your hand away from his face. "Let's just watch-" Bucky's left hand clamped down onto your wrist with bruising pressure. He pulled you back to him, wrapping his right arm around your waist.

Pressed against his chest, you could feel his heart pounding. "I haven't been kissed since the '40s." He whispered.

"It's okay, Brooklyn. I won't judge." You made sure to use the teasing nickname, hoping to get a smile out of him. The smile you got made your heart skip a beat. It was full of teeth and his eyes were smiling, too. It was a completely honest smile.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, softly. If it weren't Bucky kissing you, you'd have called it 'nervously', but the idea that Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, former HYDRA assassin and former Howling Commando sniper, would be nervous about something as mundane as kissing _you_... that would be absurd. When he pulled back, searching you for judgment: good or bad, you smiled up at him. "Not bad... for an old man." You teased.

He chuckled, his whole body shaking with the effort. "You know, it's been 70 years since someone had the nerve to talk to me like that."

"Well, then, you're overdue, aren't'cha?" You said, putting your hand on his chest and smiling as you felt the muscle under his hoodie. "Hey, Buck? You know you don't have to hide yourself under this, right? Like, the radiators are on so it's pretty warm in here and I know you've got a robot arm, so you don't have to hide that from me."

"You tryin' to get me to undress, y/n?" He asked, a smirk on his lips.

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and tried to look thoughtful, before nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, Sergeant. I believe I am!"

He released your waist and took a step back, reaching over his head to grab the back of the hoodie and pull it over his head. He raised an eyebrow as your mouth dropped open and you stared at his muscles, finally able to see all the ridges he'd been hiding... and the entirety of his metal arm. You took a deep breath to bring yourself back to the real world as he dropped the hoodie on the counter. "Definitely need to see more of 'Tank top muscley Bucky'. It's what life is missing."

"Yeah? _That's_ what you're missing, Doll? Not missing home, or your mission to find your brother?"

"Home's relative, right, Brooklyn? And my brother... that quest is just me cleaning up after my Dad. I got two and a half weeks left, and I kinda wanna spend the rest of my time staring at you. Eyes or muscles, I'm good with either." 

"You know, I got a lot more muscles than just these." He said, flexing his right bicep.

You laughed. "Yeah. I know. But I'm not gonna ask to see those for a few days, at least. Take it slow, you know, like in your day."

"I dunno. I was kinda a fan of the women who moved fast." 

You chuckled and dropped to the sofa. "Come on, Bucky. Let's watch a movie."

"You notice we've been doing a lot of that?" Bucky asked, sitting down next to you as you pulled up The Wizard of Oz.

"Yeah. I was kinda hoping we'd get to a comfortable place where I could do this." You said, leaning your head on his shoulder and laying your legs across his lap. He chuckled and wrapped his arm around you, holding you tightly to him. 


	2. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and kudos'd!

You spent several days showing up at lunchtime and staying until dark. The two of you couldn't seem to get through a movie without stopping to make out like middle schoolers, but just like in middle school you didn't move past the kissing. He was eager for more, a man's body can't lie about that, but you could tell he was worried about loss of control, so you were content to make out and dry-hump like teens... at least until he was ready. On Saturday, the beginning of your third week in Romania, you showed up excited. "I've got a surprise for you, Brooklyn!" You said, bouncing happily into the apartment.

"I've got one for you, too, Doll." He said, closing the door.

You smiled. "There is a classic movie marathon playing at the drive-in, which so cool that there's still a drive-in here. King Kong, The Mummy, and The Invisible Man all playing tonight!" You said, gently dropping your laptop next to the sofa and turning to him. 

He chuckled as he handed you an envelope. "You're so excited, I hate to put a damper on that, but..."

Your brow furrowed as you opened the large envelope and pulled out the paper inside. "What is this?" You asked, looking down at a printout from GoogleMaps and a train ticket. 

"You kinda stopped looking for your brother because you've gone a bit dizzy for me. So I found him  _for_  you."

"What?!" You looked up at him, in shock. 

"Finding people... it's something HYDRA taught me. I'm good at it. You're right, he's Roma, so he never sticks around for very long. He moved West a couple years ago. He's living in the capitol of Sokovia, called Novi Grad. It's war-torn so there's a lot of work to do for construction. Your brother's a handyman, by the way, specializes in plumbing and electrical."

"You found him? His address and everything?"

"Got you a train ticket. Leaves in two hours, so we're gonna have to skip the drive-in, Doll."

You opened the envelope again, looking for a second ticket. "Where's yours?"

Bucky sighed, shaking his head as you put the envelope on the sofa. "Y/n, I can't go. You're gonna be crossin' the border. There's gonna be passport checks and patrols through the train. You gotta go this alone."

"But...  _you_  found him. We... I don't wanna go alone."

"You came all the way to Romania alone, Doll. Don't tell me you're scared of a ten hour train ride,  _now_." 

"Ten hour train ride to a war zone to meet a man who probably doesn't even speak my language. I'm... and what am I gonna do without you?"

Bucky reached forward with his right hand, skimming his fingertips across your forehead and down your cheek to your rest against the crook of your neck. "You leave in two weeks. I'm not the reason you came here, sweetheart. He is. You can go meet him, establish that relationship and then come back, but... You have to get it in your head that this is temporary." He gestured between the two of you with his left hand. 

"I know that." You whispered, avoiding looking at him. "I hate it, but I know it." 

Bucky's fingertips gripped your shoulder and pulled you toward him. "You don't." His metal fingers were suddenly on your chin, gently pushing your head to look up into his eyes. "You're the only one who knows me. Even Steve... You know me, Y/n, in a way that's absurd considering that I barely know myself. So, when you go... when you go back to the U.S., it's gonna be harder on me than you." 

"Bucky." You whispered, looking up into the sad blue clouds that were his eyes. 

"Doll..." He dropped his hand from your chin to your hip, pulling you against his body as his lips crashed against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down further and holding him for dear life. He dropped his hands to the back of your thighs and picked you up, moving easily to his mattress lying on the floor. He dropped to his knees on the mattress and then dropped you backward. The two of you had been avoiding the bed, but you guessed the time for that was over. Once you were on the bed, Bucky situated between your legs, your hands in his hair, he looked down at you and the uncertainty hit his eyes. "Are you-"

You interrupted him with a scoff and smirked up at him. "I have a train to catch in two hours, Brooklyn, so I'm gonna make this easy on you. If you're ready, then I want you. I've wanted you since the moment I saw you and that was before I knew how amazing you are. I want you to fuck me, Bucky. Please." He groaned at your words, the uncertainty in his eyes being flushed out by the darkening of lust. He attacked your neck with his mouth and grasped your hip with his right hand, planting his left hand next to your head and rubbing himself against your core. You moaned, loudly, and grabbed at his back. You pushed your hands under the fabric of his black tank top and rubbed at the muscles. "Bucky... please... we're wearing too much clothes." 

He grunted something that sounded affirmative and leaned away from you. As he reached over and pulled his tank top over his head, you scooted away enough to stand and kick your Converse shoes off. As you pulled your t-shirt over your head, you realized that Bucky had stopped undressing to watch you. His pupils seemed huge, like dark marbles in a small glass of cool water, and he was laser-focused on your chest. You blushed slightly and bit your lip as you popped the button on your jeans and started to shimmy them down your legs. "You are gorgeous." He whispered, standing to pull his jeans down his legs. While you were standing in your underwear, Bucky was suddenly nude.

_Of course, the former Howling Commando goes commando._  You thought as he stepped toward you. You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, letting it fall down your arms and hit the ground at your feet. 

"Oh. Baby girl." He whispered, pushing his right hand into your hair and forcing your head up into a harsh kiss. His left hand grabbed onto the bathroom door frame. As his right hand traveled down your back, his left hand did not move. His fingers dipped under the elastic band of your panties, pushing them over the crest of your hips and down to your thighs where they slipped to your feet. As your tongue pushed against his, you ran your hands up his chest. His hand groped your ass, grabbing a handful of your cheek and pulling you closer to him. 

"Bed." You muttered against his lips. "Please. Please. Please." 

He wrapped his right arm around your waist and picked you up, taking you the few feet and dropping you to the mattress. He slid himself over your body, planting his left hand next to your body and beginning to kiss down your clavicle. His right hand cascaded up from your abs to your breasts, running his thumb over your nipples until you moaned. He grunted into your skin, licking his way further down. His hand slid down, kneading your thigh as he kissed around your mound. He brought his hand over and used his fingers to open you up to him. "Fuck." He groaned, before licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You bucked against his face and grabbed the pillow behind your head as he began to lick at you like you were the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. The sounds were obscene and that only turned you on more. "You taste... so good." He leaned up and pushed a finger into you, pumping it hard. 

"Bucky, please. I need you." You moaned. He climbed up your body and licked your lips. You wrapped your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the small of his back. He lined his cock up with your entrance and looked down at you. "Please, Sergeant." He slammed his hips forward and you saw stars in your eyes. If you weren't so wet, it would've hurt, but he slipped in with little resistance and left you just feeling full. You rolled your eyes back into your head and grabbed at his shoulders as he began to snap his hips back and forth, rapidly. "Oh, God, Buck. You..."

He tucked his head into the crook of your neck as he fucked you into the mattress. "So perfect. So good." He rambled into your neck. "So tight. So perfect. So sweet. So good. God, perfect." He grunted.

You dug your heels into his lower back harder and leveraged your hips into a better angle. He groaned and you let out a squeal as the new angle hit your g-spot. "Fuck!" 

His hips stuttered as he came, filling you with his seed as he bit down lightly on your shoulder. He pulled out and rolled to your right side, dropping his hand to your mound and pushing two thick fingers inside of you. His thumb swept over your clit and it didn't take long until you were squeezing his fingers with your pussy, gasping and crying out.

Bucky lied down next to you, his head propped up on his left hand, eyes searching your face as you panted. Your body felt like it was vibrating. "Wow." You gasped out, reaching up to caress his cheek. "You know, for a nonagenarian who hasn't been laid since World War II... you did pretty good."

He chuckled, the uncertainty leaving his face. "You know, if you keep teasing me, I'm gonna hit back eventually." He said.

"Okay. I think I could handle some Depression-era sass." He chuckled and pulled you in closer to his side, hugging you and burying his face in your hair. "You know, I don't think you appreciate how much time and effort my little barbs actually take. I had to  _look up_ what to call a man in his nineties."

He gave a scoffing laugh. "You're a dork."

You grinned at him. "Yeah, but I'm a  _perfect_  dork."

He ran his hand across your abs. "Hey. I cannot be held accountable for the things I said while you were strangling my dick with your pussy."

"My  _perfect_ pussy." You giggled. "So, how long 'til I gotta be at the train station, Buck?"

He leaned back, reaching next to the mattress to pick up a small black flip phone. It looked tiny in his hand, like he was about to break it as he checked the time. "Little over an hour." 

"That's new." You gestured at the phone and you could swear his cheeks turned pink, but you didn't have time to confirm because he turned away and stood and your brain couldn't focus on that while staring at his muscular ass and thighs.

"Yeah. I got it this morning. Wanted you to be able to call if things go wrong in Sokovia. Or if things go right in Sokovia." He said, grabbing his jeans from the floor and pulling them on. Taking the signal that naked time was over, you crawled of the mattress and started to collect your clothes. "Hey, how about  _I_  make lunch? Well, breakfast. I can make eggs." He offered, walking into the kitchen barefoot and shirtless.

You smiled as you started to redress. "I'll take mine scrambled, thank you."

"Cheese?" He asked, pulling the leftovers of a block of Dubliner cheese out of the fridge.

"Hell, yeah." You buttoned your jeans and pulled your t-shirt over your head as you walked over and kneeled on the couch backward so you could watch him cook. "So, other than his occupation and his address, did you find out anything useful about my brother?" You asked as he cracked two eggs into a skillet that you were certain was another new addition to Bucky's apartment.

Bucky shook his head. "Not much. He buys a lot of chocolate. Imported from the UK. So he might speak English. Best I got."

"What if he doesn't wanna talk to me, Buck?"

"Then, he's an idiot."

"Bucky."

He looked up from the eggs and smiled, softly. "Why  _wouldn't_  he wanna talk to you, Doll?"

"I dunno. Why don't  _you_  wanna talk to Steve?"

He sighed, placing the spatula (when did he get a spatula?) on the counter. "It's not that I don't wanna talk to Steve. I  _can't._  I almost killed him last year, y/n. I can't talk to him until I know where the Winter Soldier ends and Bucky begins."

"I think you already know that, Sergeant." You reached over and grabbed his left wrist. "This hand didn't touch me at all, not once we decided to take it to home plate."

He sighed, twisting until he had your wrist in his metal fingers. "It wasn't just that. I wanted to feel you. Completely, not just a vague acknowledgement of the feel of your skin." He swept his thumb across your palm to illustrate his point.

You blushed. The man definitely knew how to make a dame feel special. "Not  _just_  that, but at least partially that." You said, pulling your hand away and grabbing the spatula to agitate the eggs. 

He slapped your hand, lightly. "Hey, I'm cookin' here."

"Then, cook, Brooklyn." You smirked and handed the spatula back.

***********

You texted Bucky with updates throughout the trip.

_**I just saw a horse and a sheep licking each others faces.**_

_**There's a woman on the train who looks like Lady Gaga. You need to look up who that is so you can marvel with me that this woman looks great with makeup but probably wouldn't without it.**_

_**Can you buy some ground lamb? When I get back, I wanna make gyros.**_

_**Fell asleep.**_

**_Made it to Novi Grad._**

_**OMG! There's this gorgeous abandoned cathedral in the middle of the city. I'm totally gonna explore it if I have time after I meet with Milo.**_

_**Found his apartment. Wish me luck.**_

He only responded to one; asking 'Whats so great about an old brokedown church?' to which you responded:  _ **I like old broken-down things... and you can take that however you please, Brooklyn.**_

Three hours later, he was calling. You stepped out of Milo's apartment to answer your phone. "How are things in Sokovia?" His words were conversational, but his voice was tight. 

"They're great! He speaks English, thank God, and he's super nice! And he was actually looking for  _me_ , too! Well, not specifically me, but anybody related to Dad. That's why he put his DNA in at the service, but then the work dried up in Bucharest and he moved to Novi Grad. Oh, and he looks just like my Dad,  _our_  Dad, when he was younger, which is creepy but in a good way, ya know?" You answered, excitedly.

"So, you're getting along with him? Nice sibling connection there?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Buy him a train ticket and get back to Bucharest ASAP."

"What?!"

"The Avengers are active, y/n. The Hulk just rampaged through Johannesburg. Iron Man had to put him down. Something big is happening and I have a bad feeling. You need to get your brother and come back where I can keep you safe."

You felt a thrill at the protectiveness in his voice, but kept it down. "How am I supposed to convince Milo to come with me?"

"He's a damn gypsy. They're superstitious as fuck. Tell him I had a vision of doom."

"Okay, Mr. 1940s. Let's try a little political correctness next time, but... I'll do my best.  _I'll_  come back, either way, okay?"

"Okay. Call me back after you talk to him." 

"All right, Buck. I will."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you stepped off the train with Milo 12 hours later, Bucky was waiting in the station. He was dressed the way he had been when you walked up to him in the grocery store. Two shirts, a hoodie and a jacket, gloves covering his hands. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek, before turning to Milo. "Milo, this is... James. He's the friend who helped me find you." You went with the more generic name to introduce him, to protect his identity. 

"Guten Tag, James." Milo said, reaching his hand out for a handshake. 

"Es freut mich, dich kennen zu lernen." Bucky said, shaking Milo's hand with his right hand as he slipped his left hand around your waist. 

"Sprichst si Deutsch?" Milo asked.

"Oh, James speaks a bunch of languages. He's super smart." You smiled up at him as you started to walk away. 

"Ona preuvelichivayet." 

"Yeah? What other languages do you speak?" Milo asked, following.

"Quia non multi. Sólo español, inglés, portugués..." Your ears picked up on a difference in the two sentences, but you couldn't tell what the difference was. "...ratengo to nihongo." He chuckled. "And I can understand French, but I don't speak it very well."

You giggled, biting your lip. "You're so great."

"Hey, I'm sorry about cutting your time in Sokovia short. I just-"

"Hey, don't worry about it. Only problem is, there aren't any beds at the hostel, so I don't know where Milo is gonna sleep."

"Why don't you give him your bed at the hostel? You could stay with me." Bucky suggested.

"Oh, are you two-" Milo asked, wagging his eyebrows up and down suggestively. You blushed, not sure how to answer.

"I meant, she could sleep on my sofa. Nothing untoward." Bucky answered... without actually answering.

"'Untoward'?" Milo asked.

"Nothing..." Bucky started, but you responded this time.

"No sex. He means no sex." You smirked, trying to ignore your burning face.

"Well, that's no fun." Milo laughed. "I am fine to take the bed at the hostel. I am sure I have stayed worse places."

"Ooh! Did you get the lamb? I can make us dinner before we drop Milo at the hostel and tell Ms. Rumancek that Milo is going to be taking my bed."

"I did. Also, grabbed pitas." 

"Perfect!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ms. Rumancek, the woman in charge of the hostel, was happy to let your brother take your place and she spent a good ten minutes flirting with him in Romanian. Bucky walked you back to his apartment and, as you walked up the staircases, he reached out and took your hand. "I know you wanted to explore Novi Grad. I'm sorry that I made you come back so early. I just... I saw the news about the Avengers and I... something in my head went off." 

You stopped on the staircase and pulled on his hand. "Bucky, I told you, I trust your instincts. You felt there was a problem coming and even if you don't know why, that doesn't matter. You're smart and wise and you've got years of experience with bad situations. I trust you."

"Nothing's happened, though. I'm feelin' like I mighta just missed you so much that I made myself feel like you were in danger so that you'd come home." Bucky looked up at the ceiling, high above your heads. He dropped your hand. "I mean, come  _back_." The pain in his voice made your throat clench. 

"Buck..."

"I didn't mean to say that." He whispered, starting up the stairs again.

"What if I stay?" You blurted out. He stopped several stairs ahead of you, but didn't turn back. "I could stay."

You could see his entire body tense, then slouch in sadness. "No. You can't, y/n. Not that I care about your visa, Doll, but... I care about you. You will never be completely safe with me." 

"I'm safer with you than I've ever been." 

"And if they find me?" If it was possible, his normally intimidating frame deflated more. "If HYDRA finds me, or SHIELD... Interpol, Europol, CIA, KGB, if they find me, you  _won't_  be safe. They'll come in, looking for a fight and you'll get caught in the cross. I can't let that happen. I can't let you stay." His voice was low, but strong enough that there was no doubt in what he'd said. 

The words hit you and knocked the breath out of your lungs. It hurt. It felt like a literal pain in your chest that rose and burned your throat. You wanted to hit back, tell him he couldn't make you leave, but you knew... somewhere inside, you knew that if you tried to overstay your welcome, he'd be the one to leave. Bucky Barnes was headstrong like that.

You swallowed the hurt and rushed up the stairs, brushing past him and up several flights of stairs to his apartment door. You didn't look at him as he turned the key in his door and opened it, and you didn't look at him as you pushed into the apartment and sat on the sofa. You pulled your laptop out of its bag and signed into it. He stared at you from across the apartment, leaning against the bathroom doorjamb, you could see him over the top of your screen, but you ignored him like you were trying to do with your pain. You pulled up your movies, picking the newest, most violent film in your folder and playing it.  _No Grandpa Classics tonight._  You thought, as 'John Wick' started playing and you tucked your legs under you on the sofa and set the computer on your lap. You twisted to lean your back against the arm of the couch and rested your arms against two of the throw pillows. 

He moved lightning-fast, crossing the room, slamming your laptop shut and tossing it on the mattress in what seemed like a split second. " _Hey!_ " He didn't respond, grabbing you and pulling you to your feet. He moved to kiss you, but you pulled back as best as you could. "That's not fair."

"Fuck fair. I can't let you sit there wasting our time."

You pushed your hands against his chest, but his arms circled you and you knew there was no getting out of his grasp if he didn't want it to happen. "Why is everything about what  _you_  can't let happen?" You whispered, angrily.

He sighed and pressed his lips to the top of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. "Oh, Doll... I know this hurts. It's a raw deal, but... come on. This was always supposed to be a short affair."

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was the only thing you could think to do that might keep you from crying. "I don't want to leave. I've never..." You cut yourself off, knowing that anything that came out of your mouth would sound cliché or overly dramatic. 

"...never felt like this with anyone else." He finished for you and you opened your eyes, blinking up at him. He reached up and pushed your hair out of your face, smiling softly. "I know. But you know who I am. You know how many people are after me. Being in my apartment, being in my arms... if it goes on much longer, sweetheart, it's gonna get you killed. You're just a regular dame."

You couldn't feel upset about him calling you 'regular' (what happened to 'perfect'?) because he distracted you with a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose. "If a paramilitary team came in, right now, you wouldn't even know how to react." He kissed your left cheek. "You'd scream and I'd get distracted trying to keep you safe." He kissed your right cheek. "We'd both die and it'd be because of me." This time, his lips landed on yours. 

He was right, of course. As you ran your hands through his hair, the back of your mind was telling you that he was right. And as you pressed your body against his, something in you reminded you that you'd barely known the man for 3 weeks.

And as he pulled your shirt over your head, something you identified as your heart spoke up loudest:  _But I think I'm in love_. You pushed the thought down as you grabbed at his clothes and tried to push the layers up his chest. He pulled away from you long enough to pull four layers of cloth over his head and throw them to the floor in a pile. He pulled his gloves down his fingers and you carded your fingers through his hair, fingertips trying to map his scalp. The reality that you were going to have to leave, that in a week and a half you'd be on a plane and you'd  _never_ see Bucky again sunk in and you suddenly wanted to try to memorize every inch of him. If all you were gonna have next month was memories, then they were gonna be vivid and fully-fleshed.

His hands rested on rested on your hips, his metal fingers digging into your flesh just a bit harder than his flesh hand. You slid your hands down past his ears to rest on his shoulders. Your pinkie tapped against the mottled scar tissue where the metal met flesh. It was worse than a scar. Thick, pink flesh where the the bionic arm was shoved into the muscle. You could only imagine how the procedure must've hurt. You ran your hands across his clavicles until they met in the middle. "You know, I've always had a problem with Romance, movies and novels, the whole genre. It's just always seemed so unrealistic. That you could meet someone one day and then, suddenly, you can't imagine your life without them. I couldn't see that ever happening in real life." You looked up at him, catching his eyes as yours started to water. "But look at us. We're 'Before Sunrise'... with a few more weeks time and a lot more looming danger. We've even got the bittersweet ending." You sighed and shook your head. "I'm never gonna see you again, after I leave. You're gonna go back to not talking to anybody, eating canned food and being in your head all the time. And I'm gonna go back to America and spend the rest of my life thinking about you." 

Bucky didn't respond, just hugging you close as your tears began to roll down your cheeks. "God, and I feel like such an idiot. There was no way for this to go my way." You mumbled into his chest. He moved you to the bed, pushing your laptop off the mattress with his foot and laying you down. You cuddled together, him holding you against him as you snuggled into his chest. "I ruined the sexy mood."

"I ain't dizzy for you just for the sex, Doll." He kissed the top of your head again and held you tighter. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

You sighed and nodded, suddenly exhausted. It was likely your emotions draining your physical energy, but you couldn't focus on that. You rested your head on his chest and letting the exhaustion take you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up, you were on the bed alone, wrapped tightly in the sleeping bag he used as a blanket. Bucky was sitting on the couch, your laptop across his thighs, a disturbed look in his eyes. You sat up, pushing the sleeping bag to the side and walking over to sit next to him. "What's wrong?"

"They were in South Africa three days ago; they were in South Korea, yesterday. They're fighting some sort of metal... man... a robot, I guess."

"It's okay. You know, they were technically closer to us when they were in Johannesburg than they were in Seoul." You said, looking at the article he had pulled up on the screen.

"I know that. But they're still fighting _that_ thing, which means they could show up anywhere." He pointed to a fuzzy picture of a man-shaped silver blur. You scrolled down to a picture of Captain America fighting with the robot. "It's just a whole lot easier when I know Steve's in New York, Doll."

"Buck, he's not gonna... suddenly find you. He's got his hands full with whatever this thing is. Calm down."

"When am I  _not_ calm? I can worry about shit while maintaining calm."

"You're awake at 4am, staring at a screen, instead of sleeping. We've only got a handful of nights left to sleep next to each other, Sergeant, and you are freaking out about your old best friend fighting some metal monstrosity in Korea. He's fine. Captain America isn't getting taken down by a robot. And you aren't getting taken down by him. Come to bed, Bucky."

He took a deep breath and shut the laptop, standing to place it on the little metal table and wrap his arm around your shoulder. "I ever tell you how much I love it when you call me 'Sergeant'?"

"I ever tell you how much I love it when you call me 'Doll'?"

"You didn't need to, Doll." He said, lying down. You rolled on top of him, straddling his waist and looking down at him. "You're not wearin' a shirt, sweetheart. If you keep bouncin' those things in my face, I can't be held accountable."

"This is a good bra, Brooklyn. These 'things', as you call them, aren't bouncing anywhere. Now, if you want bouncing..." You said, reaching behind your back to unclasp the bra. You dropped it to the mattress beside you and leaned your chest over his face. "See the difference?" He leaned his head up and caught your nipple in his mouth. You bit your lip and moaned, running your hands across his chest. You pulled away, forcing his lips to relinquish your nipple, and started to slide your body down his. You kissed down his chest and abs, sitting up to unbutton his jeans and slowly pull the zipper down. 

"What are you doing, Doll?"

"What's it look like, Barnes? You gonna act like you don't know what a blow job is?" You asked, putting your fingers through his belt loops and pulling his waistband down. He lifted his hips to help as you pulled them down his legs. 

"I know what it is. Didn't you just tell me I should go to sleep?"

You smirked up at him. "I said, 'Calm down and come to bed'. Sleep was not mentioned." You took his mostly flaccid dick in your right hand and ran your tongue along the head. His breath caught in his chest as you began to swirl your tongue around the frenulum. It didn't take long for him to grow hard and so large that your fingers didn't fit around the circumference. You slid your lips down his length until the tip hit the back of your throat and you began to pump your hand up and down the flesh you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"My god, woman." He groaned, his left hand fisting the cheap mattress and his right hand grabbing onto your hair. You chuckled as you started to bob up and down his dick, sucking as hard as you could on the way up and swirling your tongue around him on the way down, your hand pumping the inaccessible part at the base of him. The hand in your hair began to tug, gently. "Y/n, you gotta let me-"

You pulled back and looked up at him from the foot of the mattress. "Let you... what?" You squealed as he tackled you backward to the hardwood floor, his right hand cushioning the back of your head as his body covered yours and he pressed his lips against yours. 

"Pants off." He ordered, pulling back. You obliged, kicking your pants and panties off. He was on you again, immediately, biting and licking at your neck and shoulder. You grabbed his left hand and he pulled back slightly to look at you with confusion. 

"This is part of you, Buck, and you, any part of you, can touch me." He took a breath and moved his left hand from the floor next to your thigh to rest heavily against your lower abdomen, holding you down as he dived tongue-first into your pussy. His left thumb swept down to put hard, cold pressure on your clit as he stuck his tongue as deep into your vagina as possible. "God, damn, Bucky, you..." He crawled up your body and settled between your thighs, not having to use his hand to line up his dick perfectly with your entrance. You wrapped your right leg around his waist as he started to pivot his hips, slowly pushing into you. 

"You're still perfect." He groaned into your ear as he bottomed out. As he waited for you to adjust to him, he ran his tongue over the shell of you ear. "More perfect than I deserve. More perfect than I ever wanted, Doll."

"You... I never even considered..." Your words failed you as he started to moved within you, his dick rubbing along your inner walls better than anything, making your mind lose focus.

His left hand tentatively moved to your shoulder, holding your body still as he picked up his pace and he began to drill into you with earnest. "You make me forget who I am, sometimes." He whispered, barely audible over the sound of your moans. "What I've done. Who I've hurt."

"Not you." You moaned, holding onto him as tightly as possible. Your fingernails dug into his back, but it didn't break his stride. "Not you. Not Bucky. Not you."

"Yes, me... but not with you." He nibbled at your earlobe and moved his right hand up to roll your nipple between his fingertips. 

"Fuuuck." You whined as he dropped his left hand down from your shoulder to rub his thumb against your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm crashed over you. Your muscles clenched around him and he grunted and continued to fuck you, prolonging your pleasure and making you clench more. 

He stilled within you, looking down at you as his cock twitched signaling his own end. "Ya lyublyu tebya tak sil'no." He whispered.

You reached up and pushed his hair out of his face as you caught your breath. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing important, Dollface. Just more nice words about your perfect body." He said, pulling out and heading toward the bathroom. 

"I'm gonna have to learn another language, so I can talk shit behind your back." You muttered, rolling over to pick up your clothes.

"Ya vse ravno poymu tebya." He said, coming out of the bathroom with a wet washcloth, cleaning your combined juices off of him. "Means, 'I'll understand you anyway', Doll." 

"I'll learn some totally obscure language, like... Yiddish. You don't speak Yiddish, do you?"

He chuckled. "I lived in New York in the 1920s and 30s. I picked up some phrases, but... no, sweetheart, I don't speak Yiddish." 

"All right, then." You said, pulling your shirt on and your panties, but leaving the pants on the floor as you crawled onto the mattress and under the sleeping bag. He pulled his jeans on and crawled in next to you. He kissed your cheek and closed his eyes. You smiled at the peaceful look on his face, then closed your own eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke to an earthquake. Bucky's arms tightened around you as the building shook. It didn't last long but Bucky didn't release you for a few minutes. "U menya pokhoye predchuvstviye." 

"Okay, Sergeant, enough of the Russian." You said, pushing away and making a move for your laptop. "I wonder where the epicenter on that was." You pulled up Google and didn't find anything about an earthquake. What you found was cell phone footage of the Avengers fighting thousands of robots... in Novi Grad, Sokovia. "Bucky. Look." You turned the computer so that he could see it.

He closed his eyes, breathed out a sigh and shook his head. "I knew it. See if there's anyone in Novi Grad live-streaming what's happening there."

You shook your head as you turned the computer back around. "You know, sometimes you say something so completely modern that I forget that you didn't grow up with my tech." You muttered to yourself as you pulled up twitter and signed in. The prominent trending hashtags were #Avengers and #Sokovia. "Holy shit!"

"What?" He dropped onto the couch next to you. 

"This is video from the bridge into Novi Grad. Half the city is flying." 

"Not an earthquake, then." 

"No. Not an earthquake. A city being pulled from the Earth." You looked to Bucky and hugged him tightly. "I... I don't have any idea what could've caused that." You swallowed and laid your head on Bucky's arm as the live video continued to play. The city continued to climb, whoever was taking the video getting out of their car to follow the progression of the city. "That's fuckin' scary." You whispered.

"It'll be okay."

"What happens when the city falls?"

He was silent for a moment. "Depends how high it gets." He whispered. 

"I should call Milo." But you didn't move. You were frozen, watching the city you were in just a day ago rise into the sky. When the city disintegrated in the air, tears were rolling down your cheeks, but Bucky just shut the laptop.

"You need to get Milo, take him to the embassy."

"What?"

"He's a Sokovian resident. His city just disintegrated in front of the world. He's your blood. You might be able to vouch for him to get him an emergency refugee visa."

"Wait, what?"

Bucky stood, pulling you to your feet. "Get dressed. Get to the hostel, and get your brother to the embassy." 

"I don't have the money for a visa for-"

"Don't worry about the money, y/n. Just get him to the embassy and get started on the paperwork." He said, grabbing your pants off of the floor and handing them to you. 

"Okay." You said, pulling the jeans on and slipping into your Chucks. "Can we go to the cafe on the corner when I get back from the embassy?"

"Sure."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The embassy was crowded and it took hours just to see somebody. And when you finally got to talk to someone, they confirmed what Bucky said. You could sponsor Milo for an emergency visa and take him home in a week... for $6,000, which you definitely didn't have. As the three of you sat at the little French cafe down the street from Bucky's apartment, Bucky smiled across the little table at you. "Get the paperwork done. Don't worry about the money." 

"James, I've been in your apartment. You're not gonna tell me that you've got $6,000 lying around." You said, looking blankly across the table at him.

"Fine. I won't tell you that." 

"Okay, so... fine. I can't ask you for that money. We'll just... Milo can stay in Bucharest and I'll go home and start sending money back. People do that all the time, right?"

"You didn't ask." Bucky clarified, taking a drink of his coffee. "Doing it that way would take forever."

"Yeah. If I get to America, I get a job, we can send money back to James faster." Milo offered. 

"I dunno. I don't feel right." You said, breaking a piece off of a croissant and popping it into your mouth.

"We'll talk more later." Bucky said, sighing.

~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, you were alone. An envelope was sitting on the table next to a paper bag, and when you stood, you could see your name on the outside of the envelope. 

_**Here's the money to get Milo to America with you and a little extra for his plane ticket. I know you'd keep arguing with me on it, denying the help I want to give you and your brother. You can stay at the apartment while you get the paperwork finished for Milo to go home with you, but I'm not coming back while you're still there. It'll be easier this way. I know you won't see it this way but this will make it easier than waiting for the 'goodbye'. I wanted to hold off as long as possible, but now seems like the best time to leave.**_

_**Я люблю тебя и буду думать о тебе навсегда,**_

_**James Buchanan Barnes.**_

You looked around the apartment. It didn't look like he'd taken anything when he left. You swallowed down the emotions in your throat and folded the letter back and put it into the envelope. The paper bag on the table had stacks of US dollars. You didn't count it. You didn't want to. You took a deep breath and headed for the bathroom to take a shower before you headed to the hostel to tell your brother the good news. 

 

~~~~Epilogue~~~~~~

You put the framed note on the wall. You'd blown up the last sentence and framed it. It had taken a bit of effort to put it through Google Translate, the Russian letters being hard to put together on your American computer, but it had made you cry. 'Я люблю тебя и буду думать о тебе навсегда.' ' _I love you and will think of you forever_ '. 

"Aw, that's sweet. Are you going to be teaching him Russian?" Milo ran his hand across your back as he came to stand next to you.

"I'll have to learn it first, but... yeah. I want him to speak all the languages James does." You said, running your hand around your belly.

"Tomorrow I will put together the crib, yeah?"

"Yeah. That's a good idea. Thanks." You said, leaning your head back against him. 

"When's Lamaze?"

"5:30."

"Well, then we should get ready." Milo said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and walking you out of the room past a large painted cloud with 'George Steven Barnes' in bright blue letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already working on a sequel to this.


End file.
